


compromised

by rhydonium



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Friendship, Jealousy, Late Night Conversations, Pre-Canon, Soft Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhydonium/pseuds/rhydonium
Summary: You’re passed over for a promotion. You take that up with Levi.
Relationships: Erwin Smith & Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/You, Levi Ackerman & Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman & Erwin Smith & Reader, Levi Ackerman & Reader, Petra Ral & Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	compromised

**Author's Note:**

> if you see me clowning, no you don’t. also everything is like subtext so happy valentines day!!! (well its 10pm saturday but you know) maybe ill write some fluff tomorrow. also i legit love petra pls and so does y/n
> 
> crossposted on tumblr x

“You’re angry with me.”

You take a deeper sip of tea, resolved to ignore him as he walks around the mess, carefully draping his jacket over his chair and rubbing absently at his hands before he reaches over for the pot of tea and pouring himself without spilling a drop.

Fucking neat freak.

Normally, you’d appreciate the aspects of Levi that make him a hardass. He’s possibly your favourite person on the planet against all odds, maybe only rivalled to Erwin but that’s because he got drunk and showed up at your door once since his room was too far away because he trusts your indiscretion, and the fact that the Commander just happens to be… well… _him._

But right now… right _now_ , you’re fuming and you have no intention of just letting any of it go.

But you also know Levi is prone to fucking misunderstanding emotions and he isn’t going to fucking understand.

 _Asshole_.

It’s all you can think and it’s bitter as fuck in your mouth. You hadn’t spoken to him since they came back from the plaza. 

In a succinct order of events: Levi all but dragged you away from the Commander just so you would talk to him, you ignored him, excused yourself, _left_ with him in tow and fucking _Petra._

Petra intercepted them and you had to force on a smile because you really are happy for her, but God, you wanted to fucking rip your own hairs out as you said congratulations.

Because you love Petra. You _really_ do. She’s practically your little sister—you trained her since she joined the Scouts, took her under your wing, and stuck by her even when the others got on her ass. Not that she needed your help, but it was nice to have someone. 

But you’d given the Scouts your _all_ and Levi chose her? 

It makes fucking sense. You know it does. You know, and you adore Petra and your anger at her is misplaced and bitter and dangerous.

But since when does her her affinity to soak up new skills outrank your experience?

_Her over me?_

It feels like it’s more than a stab to the back, but you’re not sure why. 

Erwin told you that it was a sensible choice—that this only means the Scouts can reinforce leadership in the near future because it leaves you open for a promotion whilst training new talent. It sounded like a lie, considering that they all know Levi’s Squad was the best of the best and you _are_ one of the best, but it made sense if you didn’t read that deeply into it. 

And by Erwin’s muted stare, he had wanted you not to look too deeply into it. _Commander’s orders._

So why does your heart feel like it’s fucking wilting in your chest?

Presently, after a beat, you say quite neutrally: “Why would I be angry?”

Because you’re fucking gracious like that.

Levi sips his tea, not quite looking at you, and you don’t look at him either. You stare into the woodgrain, into the brew where a few tea leaves sprinkle the bottom and you half-heartedly remember how he’s the one who taught you. Without demonstration, so practice has had to make up for it, but you think you’re getting good.

He hasn’t spat it out yet, at least.

“Erwin signed off on the decision. It’s the best choice to keep the Survey Corps leadership and hierarchy in tact.”

“Don’t tell me what I have already heard. Erwin fed that shit to me all night.”

Levi’s head dips just a bit and your eyes flash to him but he still won’t _look_ at you as he murmurs, “I’m sure he did.”

 _What did he just say?_ Your grip on your teacup tightens and you set your jaw, turning your face away. Scowling at the shadows, the air prickles around your cheeks, smelling like when the iron wires of their ODM gear start to create too much friction around their spools. A terse silence follows as you finish your cup and reach for the pot to pour another.

You’re simmering, but you feel like crying, too. It doesn’t make sense—you’re a fucking Scout, for God’s sake, and you’re crying over a missed promotion? 

Would it even have been a promotion?

For some reason, you know it’s not the fact that you lost out on a rise in ranks that’s making you see red.

“That’s not fair, Ackerman,” you tell him quietly. “It’s not like we’re attached to the hip.” The new tea warms the porcelain, scalding your fingertips, but you don’t move away as you look down at the honey-toned brew. “At least he talked to me.”

“Is that what this is about?” he asks, tone only pitched in slight surprise and subtle irritation. “Did you think I didn’t consider you?”

“No. It just doesn’t make sense why you _didn’t_ choose me.” After a moment, you clamp on a biting, “ _Sir.”_ Icy grey eyes finally flit over to you and you meet that dead stare head on with one of furrowed eyebrows and lips pressed into the faintest frown. If this is one of yours and Levi’s infamous battles, you intend to win. And to start it off: “Permission to speak freely?”

Decorum. Formalities. His eyebrow twitches at it.

He punches out a quiet: “Granted.”

“Erwin stood by my side all night because he knew how much I wanted that spot, Levi,” you whisper to him, dangerously soft. “And he told me that it was for the good of the Scouts—that the future of the Survey Corps will persevere with me standing right next to you and the Section Commanders. But… why? I’m not a leader. I’m a soldier, and I know what I’m good at so why does he suddenly think I can do that?”

“You’re a good teacher.”

“That isn’t the same thing and you know it. That spot was supposed to be _mine._ ” Eyes stinging, you jerk your head down and curse silently to yourself. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why would you cry over something so stupid?_

 _Because you worked your entire career for this moment,_ a timid voice in your head suggests. _For someone to see you._

_For someone to care._

_And you thought Levi cared. Because you’re stupid._

“I know I’m being irrational,” you add, voice thickening with every passing moment and you want to punch yourself. “I know that Petra is talented. I trained her—of course I know that.” At this, a mirthless smile prints itself onto your face. “But I can’t do anything else but follow orders. It’s my whole life. I—I thought I was better than this. I know it’s not fair. Life isn’t fair, but I just wanted this one thing, Levi. _One_ thing.”

“Most of us barely get the one thing we want,” he intones listlessly and your eyes jerk up to meet his. He hums quietly, looking down at his tea. Your heart begins to cave into your ribs. “Tell me, you can’t have hinged it all on the fact that I could’ve chosen you. There’s still Section Commander posts that will open.”

“That’s the thing, Levi. I can’t be Section Commander. I can’t lead. Not like you or any of the others. That’s not who I am.”

A sigh. Then, Levi lifts his cup to his mouth. “You doubt yourself too much.”

“With good fucking reason.”

“You need to _stop._ You’re more than a soldier and you give yourself too little credit. Erwin sees that, and I can see that, too. This is more than just you being angry that I didn’t choose you. You take out your frustrations in the worst possible ways.” His glare digs into your cheek and you scowl painfully. Averting your gaze, you stare at some unknown corner of the mess as he takes a slow sip of his tea. “Ever since you joined the Scouts, you soak shit up like a sponge and lash out. I think that’s why Erwin likes to hover.”

“He doesn’t _hover._ ”

“Doesn’t he?” he challenges blandly but there’s something else in his tone, too. Something more subtle, notes of it lacing through his next words. It’s cold enough to shock you. “How many times has he shown up just in time to stop you from throwing a punch at me? Or Miche? The point is, he knows what’s good for you.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?” you ask, teeth bared. A bubble pops inside you and your arms are flooded with heat as you roll one hand into a fist, grip onto your cup hard enough you think it might shatter in your grasp. Levi scoffs, shaking his head to himself and sinking back into his chair. He sets his own teacup down on its saucer, rotating it atop the porcelain absently.

“It’s for the good of the Scouts. That’s what Erwin said,” he begins, and you clench your jaw, turning your face away. “But not because of whatever bullshit he told you. United front.” Another scoff. “You know with every candidate, I consult Erwin and see if he believes that they’re just as beneficial to the Survey Corps as I do. I fight for them, and I always win. But this time.” He falters and you swallow through the aching in your throat. 

You know that look. Something’s wrong. By the anger he tries so hard to conceal, the tiniest twitch of his scowl, it still dogs at him. Eyebrows twitching together, the question barely passes your lips in a breath: “What happened?”

“I wanted you on my squad. I would’ve fought tooth and nail for it, but he said no.” Eyebrows shooting up, you open your mouth to speak but Levi lifts a hand. Snapping your jaw shut, you swallow. “He knows that I’d be compromised and that I know better than to recommend you for my squad.”

“ _Compromised_?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat, drawing his arms back towards himself and standing. Mouth hanging open, you watch as he plucks his jacket from the back of his chair and you scramble for words. He begins to walk and your hand shoots out for his wrist.

“But, Levi, you’re—you _won’t_. I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Twisting to face him, you meet grey eyes that fail to meet your own. Desperation begins to swell up inside your chest and struggle to meet his stare but he won’t. He keeps dodging you and your guts twist as your eyes begin to burn once again. Blinking the sensation out of your eyes, your throat begins to cinch shut. “You told him he was crazy right? _Levi,_ you told Erwin that that’s fucking _stupid_.”

His lips curl into a snarl and he grunts, folding his jacket over his arm. Your hand rises to his elbow, making him stop again before he can just walk away from you. 

“Levi, we’re stronger together. Everyone knows that. Our kill count—“

“The Commander gambles, but he’s rarely wrong about decisions like this,” he acknowledges quietly. “The decision is final.” Face falling, your lips part but nothing comes out as he finally meets your wide stare. A soft exhale puffs past his lips and he pulls his arm out of your grasp with a gentle tug. Then, something softens and his eyebrows fall before he reaches up with a hand to brush something on your cheek. It smears across your skin, warm and smooth, and it’s accompanied by his soft sigh too as he does the same to your other cheek. “It’s for the best.”

You hadn’t realized tears were nesting on your face, but when you blink, your vision seems to clear.

His hand runs to your chin, thumb brushing along your bottom lip and you stare up at him, eyebrows rising, lips parting. Electricity dances down your spine, lances through you arms, shoots through your nerves, but waves of heat come to soothe it after and your heart flutters.

Levi never touches you outside of holding your arms back before you can lunge at someone, frantically grabbing your face with bloody, steaming palms, fingers brushing over your knuckles in a hospital bed...

There’s always tea waiting for you when you wake up when you get sick. You can’t count how many times you’ve woken up to a dark figure slumped over in the corner of your hospital room, arms crossed, hair covering an exhausted, pale face.

Teeth gritting, you study the way his expression almost _opens_ under your stare, how muscles relax in his cheeks, his wrinkles ease.

Choked, your voice is rawer than you could ever admit. “It’s not fair.” _To either of us._

“No, it isn’t,” he agrees. “Tough.” His eyes drift from your mouth to the empty pot, and his hand drops. Your head drops and you squeeze your eyes shut, tears splattering against the pants and sinking into the fabric. “The tea… it was nice.”

Then, he turns around and walks away. 

**Author's Note:**

> whistlingwillows.tumblr.com


End file.
